


Iron Vendetta

by Rabentochter



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternative universe - V for Vendetta, Angst, Attraction, Blood, Canon Divergence - Iron Man 1, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Danger Kink, Dark Loki (Marvel), Dark Tony Stark, Desire, Dystopia, Explosions, Fights, Flirting, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Frostiron Bingo Round 1, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Homophobic Society, Humor, Kissing, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Lust, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Pining, Scars, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Trust Issues, Tony Stark Is Not Good At Feelings, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: In a future British tyranny, a shadowy freedom fighter known only as 'Iron' plots to overthrow the government with Loki's help.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 37
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and Welcome to my Frostiron Bingo Secret Challenge that simply happened because I had a great need.  
> This chapter fills the square: **Image prompt O5**  
> 
> 
> Also, as warning for this chapter: there is an attempt at rape in the beginning. 
> 
> There are four chapters in total, and you'll get an update each monday 👌

Loki didn’t like how much England had changed since his childhood on. Where freedom used to reign, now censorship and patriotism stronger than ever before, took over and the country soon was not anymore what it used to be. It wasn’t what Loki had grown to love, either.

He couldn’t forget the day houses burned, schools were smoking, and –

His mother’s tear-stricken face, Odin’s shock and outrage and Thor –

Loki ignored the tears that threatened to fall and put his jacket on, a tight-fitting thing but he knew it looked good on him. It was cold outside but - if someone was going to ask, he could always say that he’d been visiting a woman. They’d understand and let him move, maybe reprimanded him for being out at such a late hour but –

Loki didn’t care. He wanted to hear music and exchange pleasantries with others, his mind being taken care of for the next few hours. The pub was open all night due to the curfew, the guests simply had to stay overnight, and the bartender was a _good man_. Loki thought he must have been one of those who rebelled, in the beginning. When people still used to have hope and were fighting against guns with words and self-made shields, thinking that _protesting peacefully_ was going to win their fight.

History hadn’t taught them anything, had it.

The soldiers didn’t care if protestors were there in peace; everybody went down in blood and agonised screams whatever their intention or how their behaviour was. Somehow, it had been a dark time back then for his young eyes but now it seemed less cruel than this. At least people still _lived_ back then and nobody had to hide for their sexual preferences. There had been no blacklist and no forbidden books either; TV-shows used to be fun of _the good kind_ and –

Loki closed the door behind him with a gentle _thud_ and stepped outside. As often, it was cold and foggy in London. At least that hadn’t changed.

“ _-yellow warning for curfew-“_

Loki paid the dreadful voice no heed, walking further and as he saw someone who looked like they had a stick rammed up their ass, he disappeared into a side street. He should be safe here from them.

“Hello, darling.”

Loki swallowed as he stopped and turned around. Maybe he hadn’t been as successful as he’d hoped to be. “Evening,” he replied over his shoulder, then he walked further but –

Dread rose in him as another man joined them. Like the other, he looked _prim and proper_ but they looked _lazy_ and disgust spiked in Loki. Men who’d joined the party and were now better off than others, made rich by unfortunate circumstances of others.

“Evening,” the other replied and the oily voice made Loki want to run away.

“It’s late for you to be out, isn’t it?” The man was asking him.

“I’m on my way home,” Loki said, casual.

“From where?” The other behind him asked. Loki _hated_ people standing in his blind spot.

“From the good place you can find in nether regions, hot and warm for you to enjoy, soft if you use tender caresses and brings release to you. That is the place I come from and since I am _not_ looking for a marriage, I decided to leave. You know how quick it happens to forget time when having a good one, I trust?”

Loki did _not_ trust that because he hoped that all women they tried to flirt with, rejected them.

“I do.” The one behind him mumbled with a leer in his voice.

Yes, _disgust_ was what Loki felt.

“Funny,” the other said. “I cannot smell any perfume on you and your lips do not look _kissed_ either.”

… sometimes Loki forgot that not all people were idiots.

“Are you staring at my lips?” he asked, amused and leant forward. “Are you swinging _that way_?”

The man grinned.

And Loki cursed himself again. _Of course_. He’d just tapped straight into that trap, hadn’t he?

“Fingermen, we’re going to take you into temporary custody to make sure you know how it feels to be _that place.”_

Had Loki mentioned yet that he’d only disgust at that? His eyes were running over the Fingermen, or the one in front of him. The other one was shorter, if he remembered correctly and –

Stars bloomed in front of his eyes as he keeled over, pain following the next second and his vision blackened. The pavement was closer to him than it’d been before and he could feel hands on him –

“Are you playing a game?”

 _New voice,_ Loki’s mind told him. He straightened, as much as he could but soon a fist hit his stomach and –

“And you didn’t ask him beforehand if he even _wants_ to play with you?” Someone tsked.

Loki looked up from his awkward position.

It was a man, in a black costume, a coat floating in a way behind him it had done for heroes in old – and now, forbidden – movies and a mask was hiding his face. It was golden in the middle, the eyes a glowing white and blue and red was framing it. It looked like it had been crafted with carefulness and _dedication_.

Loki liked it and then –

Knives were flying through the air, a black clad fist robbed one of his attackers of his teeth and blood was splattering through the air.

Loki sagged back against the wall behind him, licking his lips at the display in front of him. The man – because Loki was pretty sure his dark saviour _was_ a man – was moving with a graceful elegance through the air, his movements precise and lethal. Whoever this was, he knew what he was doing and Loki simply enjoyed himself.

He liked fights.

He also liked seeing assholes getting what they’d deserved and only slowly, his head stopped pounding.

The two fingermen laid on the floor, their fingers still twitching. Breathing.

“Good evening,” Maskman said and he didn’t even sound like he was out of breath.

 _Amazing_. “Good evening.” Loki sent him a grin. “Thank you for the rescue.”

“Oh, it was all my pleasure,” the other purred and it sounded _good_ , even with the metallic touch to his voice. “I don’t get to rescue people as often as I’d like to and then-“

“You let them live,” Loki interrupted and pushed himself away from the wall.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I had nicer things planned tonight than to kill assholes.”

Loki arched a brow. “Is that an excuse?” He wanted to see the men dead. They were part of the system that crippled him, broke and tortured others and there would be no mercy _for him_ were he in their stead.

“No.” The man extended a hand. “I can show you, if you like. I have the feeling you might like it.”

“Like what?”

“My company.” The man chuckled and it did _things_ to Loki as he took the offered hand. “I actually meant what I had planned. Are you afraid of heights?”

“Only when I fall.”

“Oh, I’m not planning on letting you fall.”

“Good to know.” Loki winked at the other. He didn’t _have to_ go to the bar, after all. And his brain insisted quite loudly that whatever the masked man had planned was going to be so much more fun anyway. “What’s your name?”

“What’s in a name?” The man said and he sounded _delighted_ as he slowly led Loki through the side streets. “That which we call a rose? By any other name would smell as sweet-“

“Are you telling me, your name is Romeo?” Loki asked as he recognised the lines.

“You know Shakespeare? I feel like this was a lucky day to have met you.” Another chuckle, rich, metallic. “But no, my name has been put aside, forgotten. It’s better so. But you can call me Iron.”

There were quite a few jokes ready on his lips but Loki swallowed them down and instead, introduced himself. “Loki.”

“Norse god, fire, lies, tricks?”

Loki nodded. “Did you read the Edda?”

“No. But there was a TV-show about Vikings, you know before all this happened.” Iron sighed.

“Sounds fantastic.”

Iron chuckled and they walked more stairs up, until they stood on the roof, directly opposite of one of the most important governmental buildings. Loki hated the sight of the golden statue, imposing and _arrogant_.

“Do you like music, Loki?”

“Yes.” He looked at Iron surprised. “Why?”

“Because I like it too. Alas, my favourite music didn’t fit the drama I needed but I’m sure that it’ll have a better use one day. So,” he clapped his hands. “I wish to dedicate this concert to Madame Justice whose blindfold has obviously started to fail and in recognition of the fool, who has taken her sight. And of course, to you if you so wish?”

“I never had anyone before dedicate a concertio to me.”

“Good.” Iron sounded happy. “I like being the first.”

“Mhm,” Loki purred, stepping closer to Iron. He hated strangers. Usually. But he was still _floating_ on a high from the fight, his head whirring and he couldn’t – just – couldn’t give less care about anything in Iron’s presence. He was _free_ , with the mask on and apparently one with the night.

“Do you know what date it is?”

“July the third?”

The church rang.

“And now,” Iron said and Loki swore he could hear the grin, “it is July the Fourth.” He raised his arms, waved in the air around like a fool – only he did not look like one.

“Can you hear it?”

“What?” Loki tried to listen but –

“You’ll have to concentrate.”

There was music, faint but getting increasingly louder with the second.

“The overture-“

Loki _heard it_ , and –

“The brass,” Iron announced and he was _right_.

“Tchaikovsky,” Loki breathed and his ears were singing in bliss, perfection resonating through him, the forbidden music _loud_ and –

“Yes. And there’s the Crescendio-“

And Loki _stared_ with wonder as the building with the imposter of Justice, exploded in red and golden colours. Oh, it was _perfect_.

“I know.” Iron sounded smug. “I _know_.”

“Iron-“

“Yes, Loki?”

His hands were quicker than his thoughts were to _think through_ , he grabbed the black garb and pulled Iron closer to himself. His fingers were flexing in the surprisingly strong material and Loki held tighter, tilted his head, and stared into glowing blue eyes.

“Remember what you promised?” he asked, his voice rough and the fire behind him was still _going and_ –

“Yes?” Iron sounded hoarse as well and Loki just –

He knew he was a spontaneous man at times, even when he couldn’t be like that very often but still; he had Iron pressed against the chimney within a moment and breathed in the intoxicating scent of the man in front of him.

“I will not fling you from the roof, if it’s that what you fear.” Iron cleared his throat. “Opposite, actually, if you’re planning on doing what I think you do but my mind might actually run away with me right now, so who knows?”

“Awesome.” Loki didn’t _surge_ forward, but it was a close thing to it. His lips found the bit of skin at the throat where the collar stopped, a hand wandering downwards to the pants where he hoped to find another Iron –

He was _not_ a good man, he was no friend of the country and he loved to rebel, and Iron was _perfect_ for him, his chest heaving as Loki kissed the skin tenderly, and struggled with the zip below. His head was feeling _so much,_ a run against rationality and he knew he was going to –

The, his hand was finally sneaking into the opened trousers, gripping Iron’s dick and started to run his hand down over it. A metallic moan was heard, added to Tchaikovsky’s music _perfectly_ , and Loki tried his best to elicit more sounds from his dark saviour.

“We have to be faster-“ Iron gasped and Loki looked up, regretting that the mask was preventing him from seeing more. “The guards-"

“Yes,” Loki breathed.

“Squeeze harder-“

Loki chuckled and let his other hand twist the brown hair from Iron. It pulled another moan from him, darker, and yet, higher in need. Loki felt his pants span around his front as well but –

This wasn’t about him – he’d gotten an _explosion_ and got rescued, it was now all about Iron and making him feel part of what _Loki_ was feeling. A dark intense pleasure, delight mixed with the satisfied taste of revenge pooling in him.

And then he squeezed Iron’s dick harder, rubbed below the head and Iron was panting harder, his eyes seemingly fixed on him.

It didn’t take him long from that on to come, hot white spray spilling over his hand and dribbling down.

“Not that I’m going to complain but,” Iron gasped for breath, “what was _that_?”

“I remember you telling me to squeeze harder?” Loki pressed a small kiss to the cold mask, imaging for just a moment, it was lips below his and looked at the mask tenderly.

“Brat.”

“So you say.” Loki sighed and stepped back.

“We have to go,” Iron decided and he sounded wistful at that. “I can’t bring you home, sadly. But I can show you the way over the roof?”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Yeah.”

Loki hoped he didn’t just imagine the sad sound in Iron’s voice.

When he sprinted over the roofs a few minutes later, after having pressed another kiss to Iron’s mask, he hoped that this hadn’t been the only time for him to see Iron.

He was feeling better and – it sounded dramatically, it sounded like it was coming straight from a soap opera - for the first time in ages, he was feeling alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki couldn’t stop thinking about Iron, the way he’d fought –

For Loki’s life, for a revolution and for breath when their night reached its end. It was a heady feeling and his heart was beating in a rapid speed when he let his mind wander and that didn’t bode well for him; not in his job.

He was supposed to bring his boss a coffee, two espressi, and as much as Loki liked using the coffee machine because it gave him an opportunity to make himself tea without appearing like a lazy sleazebag, today he was ... _distracted_ , to put it lightly. Wherever he looked, there were small and subtle hints at Iron –

The glaring white at the walls, appearing blue due to the lamps at the ceilings; eyes that bore into his, and it made him weep mentally in frustration. The dark chuckle of some of his colleagues at what was being shown on the TV – it was dark and rough, just another reminder and Loki knew he had to take better care. As much as last night’s indulgence had been fun, he still needed the money he earned here – sadly.

He carried the ordered drinks into the office, his face the usual mask of a nice smile and interest in any conversation that could be brought up. When Loki had started here as Malekith’s personal assistant, he’d been hoping to get promoted _one day_ –

But the bastard was _greedy_ and refused to leave, even when he’d reached the 70s already and nobody, least of all _Loki,_ would take it badly were he to announce his ‘early retirement’. He was hoping for this news for almost five years now, having worked for Malekith about ten years already. But it seemed his boss was intent on staying and rubbing his fat arse on the leather seat forever, until his successor would have to get a new chair as first thing.

Not that Loki would recommend keeping the chair anyway.

There was itching powder still in the fissures, and stains of other things, he’d rather forgot about. Life was cruel to Loki, sometimes moreso than usual.

He put the drinks on the table. Malekith looked up and as so often, Loki thought that he saw blank hatred in these dark pools. “There’s a delivery at the entrance waiting.” The _can you get it?_ Was implied and Loki smiled sharply.

“I’ll get it.” He left. He hated the office; it was like the rest of England. Full of pretentious assholes, money hidden in every creek and, worst of all things, a poster of their Prime Minister Thanos hanging on the wall, framed by golden jewels on a purple background. It was _horrible_ and Loki wondered if the people who’d designed this, were still alive or if they had died of shame already. He hoped for the latter.

He hummed the melody of Tchaikovsky’s piece from yesterday, knowing that the elevator was safe and one of the only things that were _not bugged_. There were no cameras here or microphones here either. He left the elevator, turned quiet as soon as he’d left the safe walls and rolled the delivery on a baggage wagon to the elevator, to the seventh storey.

“Fandral,” he greeted the head of the evening news. “I’ve got gifts for you.”

“I wasn’t aware we had something ordered.” He frowned and opened one of the parcels.

 _Fate_ , Loki decided as he swallowed the surprise down and hoped it was not going to show on his face but Fandral wasn’t looking, _could be a cruel mistress._ There were _dozens_ of Iron’s masks in there, hard plastic coloured in red and gold.

He left without a further word, his face burning in traitorous red and Fandral already talking to someone else on his microphone if the masks were supposed to be used on tonight’s show or not.

He hoped for a yes -

And for another explosion.

Only a small part in him wondered whether Iron knew that this TV station was where Loki worked or if this was just a big coincidence.

His heart was beating faster.

The TV on the wall to his right was silent.

It drew Loki up short because that thing was _never_ quiet, it was always loud, and someone was yelling – often Maw. His voice made Loki aggressive and he didn’t even watch his evening shows, they were only giving him headaches and made him want to kill someone in the darkness of the night.

Preferably a pale man, about fifty with a loud voice but who loved to _shush_ people all the same. Especially those, who dared to have thoughts on their own.

Then, and Loki almost couldn’t believe, Iron appeared on TV.

“Good evening, London. Since this country has lost all its once famous manners, allow me to be the gentleman. I apologise as much as anybody for this interruption, since we all like our traditions of going home and turning on the TV and hoping, the dread of the day-to-day trot will appear by making our minds going tired. But alas, need must.”

 _You bastard,_ Loki thought fondly. And then, again, as the evacuation alarm started to sound.

“Yesterday’s iconic July the fourth must be explained, I thought and since we all are in need of a little chat, without screaming and shushing, why not start here? There are some who wished I’d keep my mouth shut but I never did that, I always like to talk and _talk_ because sometimes, it made others listen because words have power. Funny, that this is now what we aren’t to do anymore, right? And all power lies in the hands of one greedy bastard, who knows this and uses it to his advantage. You wonder how this happened?”

Iron made a dramatic pause and Loki pressed a hand to his mouth, to look as _shocked_ and appalled as his colleagues were, and to hide the grin beneath while he was walking with the stream. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Finally, someone, and then _Iron_ , who spoke the truth and told things as they were in his rich voice, a soothing timber that enticed Loki and made him yearn for hearing it up closer again.

He hadn’t forgotten how Iron sounded, he never would but for him it was as if the TV disturbed the voice; it still was Iron’s but –

_The real thing is always better than the fake one._

“Last night I simply wished to destroy the silence. I was the one who put the old building and the liar atop, afire and made it go, ‘boom’. In case you wonder how: I went _shopping_ in a local store. Might as well reveal that to make life to our dear and beloved police life easier. I’m certain they could need some luck in their poor and restraining lives. But-“

Loki knew those faces in the entrance.

_Rogers and Barton._

Bane of most people’s existence and they were staring at him –

He turned on the spot, fleeing and fell into a sprint as he heard his name being called out. Hands were grabbing and reaching for him and all Loki had in mind was that he was _alive_.

Excitement spread through him, Iron’s voice carrying through the corridors with an ease and making him run even faster.

“- and together, we shall give them a July the Fourth they’ll never forget again. People shouldn’t be afraid of their government – it is supposed to be the other way around.”

Loki hid in an office, saw Rogers and Barton run by mere moments later and he rested his head against the door, breathing in deeply and tasted salt on his lips.

His legs had turned to lead, and he was shivering as reality slowly caught up on him.

 _They’d been searching specially for him_. He swallowed, balled his hands into fists. They knew he’d been with Iron last night, didn’t they? Anger was starting to mingle with panic and he unclenched his hands.

 _Count to three_.

He was in a room. _Next_.

There were two chairs and he could feel his legs and felt his breath at the door, warm air hitting him in the face. _Next_.

He knew three things for certain: that he had to get out of here, alive if possible; had to know what was going on because Iron’s recording had ended and, as last point, try to get to see Iron again. Which probably contradicted the first point, but Loki couldn’t bring himself to care, not when he was so close to his goal.

He breathed in again, out. Repeated the action slower and listened carefully for any traitorous noise but there was –

 _Oh_.

He could hear people screaming and a gun had been fired.

 _Don’t let it be Iron. Or, Fandral_.

He was one of the only friends Loki had, even when they were only friends at work, it still –

 _Just this one time_.

Time was of essence now but when Loki was about to leave his cosy little office, Iron strolled past and –

Rogers on his heels.

“FREEZE!”

 _Such a ridiculous man,”_ Loki thought and opened the door quietly as Iron started to speak, his hands raised and still, he still fucking looked in control of the situation. “I was wondering what was taking you so long. I would have hated to leave without saying a proper goodbye.”

“We were here before you even got started.”

 _Oh?_ Loki slowly sneaked closer, praying his shoes would not make a loud noise, similar to the one of a fart.

“Bad luck, my friend.”

“For you, indeed.”

And Loki _heard_ the amusement in Iron’s voice, and he tapped Rogers on the shoulder. “Evening, Sir,” he added and as Rogers whirled around, Loki’s balled fist made acquaintance with one of London’s most famous policemen.

He stumbled back and that was when Iron took over, threw in another punch for good measure and this time, Rogers went down with a garbled scream on his lips and was quiet.

“That was a good punch.” Iron tilted his head.

“And that was a good speech,” Loki replied and let his eyes wander over the dark outfit. It was glistening in a few spots, promising blood and it unsettled him that he couldn’t say if it was Iron’s or from others. “Are you hurt?”

“Why are you here?” Iron stepped closer and poked Loki in the chest. “Are you stalking me, huh?”

“I happen to work here,” Loki replied dryly. “Or, used to.”

“Used to?” Now Iron sounded curious. “Why?”

“Because they were searching for me.” Loki gently poked Rogers into the sides with a shoe.

“Time to apply to a new job, I guess.”

“How droll.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Any recommendations on who would hire me?”

“Definitely.” Iron was stepping closer. “I’m sorry in advance.”

“Wha-“

Loki saw the fist heading his way too late. He was out a few seconds later.

vIv

His head hurt, that was the first thing Loki noticed. The second was, that he was sleeping on a _bed_ and it was softer than his own.

There was no sunlight blinking him awake, either.

He stared at the ceiling, ignored the rumbling sound his stomach made because he hadn’t eaten for a while now and his body didn’t _like_ that. And Iron owed him an apology or eight for the rude knocking out.

He was still in his suit and warmth spread through him as he realised the implications – Iron may have knocked and carried him around but hadn’t touched him further. It made him forgive the other easily, not that there’d been a much to forgive in the first place. He knew that there’d been cameras installed in the hallway and now, when the police was going to watch the feed, it would look less like –

Did that even matter? They found him guilty already of blowing up a building, what if he became known for being Iron’s accomplice in crime?

Iron was standing in the kitchen, made eggs, and was wearing an apron in a screaming red and hummed music under his breath which Loki didn’t know.

“Good morning,” Iron greeted him as Loki crossed the threshold. “I hope you slept well?”

“I did, thank you.” Loki walked up to the stove, looked at the eggs with longing. It’d been some time since he’d gotten some and they smelled _delicious_. Something he never expected to think about eggs and –

“I hope you like bacon,” Iron continued casually. “I wanted to wake you up in the next few minutes so that you weren’t going to miss out on my masterpiece of breakfast anyway.”

Loki nodded.

“How’s your head doing?”

“Wonderfully,” Loki replied with a sweet smile that made the other chuckle. “I didn’t ask to be abducted, just to make sure we understand each other right. Neither to be hit.”

“That’s right, you didn’t ask for it.” Iron nodded. “But I don’t hear any complaints either. Or do you hear some, JARVIS?”

“ _No, Sir.”_

Loki’s eyes went wide as he heard an electronically voice speak.

“JARVIS is my AI. Made him a few years ago, he’s my good soul and reminds me to do washing and grabbing a snack in between.”

“You _made him_?” Loki felt shock and disbelief running through him. An artificial Intelligence hadn’t been unheard of before the censoring started but – they hadn’t been nowhere near as close as JARVIS seemed to be, responding at Iron’s call, and sounding _amused_ even less.

“Hello JARVIS,” he added and looked around, searching for a camera he could look at.

“ _Good morning, Mr Loki.”_

“Just, Loki,” he mumbled and looked at Iron. He wished he could see the face beneath it, wanted to see the pride reflecting in eyes and see if he was interpreting his saviour correctly.

“All right, ‘just Loki’,” Iron said and he sounded _amused_ and Loki groaned at the bad joke, “how about we both sit down and have breakfast and we’ll talk about this new job of yours?”

“Is there tea?”

“I’m not sure. Do you need it?”

“No job interviews without tea,” Loki told him and grabbed the two plates with toast, bacon, and eggs. “But I’ll take coffee in the meantime.”

“Spotted the coffee machine, didn’t you.”

Loki didn’t bother with a reply and sat down at the table. Iron joined a few moments later, placing a mug full of steaming coffee in front of him.

It was deliciously dark and burned his tongue but –

It was better coffee than the one he’d gotten at his former workplace. A plus point in Iron’s favour and, the eggs tasted better than they smelled which made Loki melt as different flavours seemed to explode in his mouth.

Maybe he hadn’t asked to be kidnapped but as had been pointed out correctly, he wasn’t going to complain about it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Square: **B5 - "I didn't ask to be abducted!"**


	3. Chapter 3

Loki never thought that one day he was going to be hunted by the London’s police. Even less so for being a _criminal_ when he wasn’t even one - _yet_. Iron was sharpening his knives on the bench, JARVIS played Black Sabbath and Loki found himself nodding along to the music. He hadn't always been a criminal but now, times were about to take a turn and he was in the middle of a revolution. Iron wanted his help and when had someone last _wanted_ it, and asked so nicely for it too?

They’d talked over breakfast what Iron was going to do next and the answer was more satisfying than it was disturbing. Take revenge on the people who had created this authoritarian state; controlled people’s words every second of their lives and, who had made Iron into who he was.

Loki didn’t ask for a story, he was confident that Iron would share it with him soon anyway.

“I need your ID,” Iron told him, looking up from his knives.

“For what?”

“To break into someone’s apartment and kill the inhabitant there.”

“The first out of many?”

“Not quite as many as you probably think,” Iron said casually. “You’d be surprised.”

“Would I?” Loki closed his eyes amused. “It’s in my wallet.”

“That’s it? I don’t have to sneakily go and get the ID from you?”

“Why would you have to?” Loki threw Iron an entertained look, mischief running through him. He wondered where the line was between mischief and mayhem and if he wasn’t about to cross it; or if he already had done so. “I told you I want to see the system gone,” he purred and stood up in an elegant move, walked over to Iron whose breath was getting quicker. Loki searched for the hint of soul in the blue slits. “And I’ll do whatever you need me to do to see the regime fall.”

Leather gloves were holding him at his hips, warm even through the sweater Loki wore.

“I need the ID to get into Maw’s apartment,” Iron whispered. “He’s the first one on my list.”

“I love lists,” Loki said in a tender breath. “They imply there’ll be more.”

“Yes.” The hands on his hips twitched before thumbs were starting to caress slow circles onto him. Loki felt like closing his eyes and purring; after all those years where he’d had barely any contact and now Iron was giving it to him, and he did so without running to the next Fingermen who would throw him into a body bag.

“When I’m back, I’ll tell you more.”

“All right.” Loki swallowed and leant forward, pressed a gentle kiss to the cold mask and stepped back from the almost embrace. “Take care.”

Iron nodded, silent under his mask, took the ID from Loki’s wallet and left, the black coat whirling behind him dramatically and it reminded Loki of Batman. He missed TV.

Now it was time to wait, twiddle thumbs, and wait for his man to come home. A grin flitted over his lips and he turned to the books that were laying around everywhere, some weren’t even in English but in French, German, Japanese and Russian. Bad languages, by now all forbidden because English was the only language allowed to prevail and thrive.

“JARVIS?” Loki asked as he picked up a book from Victor Hugo, “Notre-Dame de Paris”.

_“Yes, Sir?”_

“Do you know French?” He asked as his eyes flew over the first page.

“ _Yes.”_ The AI seemed to clear its voice before he began to recite, and Loki tried to form the words after him.

“ _C’était un fort heurex personnage, en l’an de grâce 1482, que noble homme Robert d’Estouteville, chevalier, sier de Beyne, baron d’Yvri et Saint-Andry en la Marche, conseiller et chambellan du roi,et garde de la prévôté de Paris.”_

And so, time flew by, Loki learnt to say a few nice things like, “ _Bifler,”_ which apparently meant to slap a penis in someone’s face which … procured quite a few images in Loki’s mind. French was a hilarious language and the more he read and heard by JARVIS who apparently had hacked its way into the Internet as it was before _everything_ had fallen into the hands of the authoritarian government, the more he forgot about time.

“Hello, darling,” a dark voice purred behind him as Loki was repeating with fondness, “ _Bifler”._

Loki leant back in the couch and let his head drop behind so that he was looking upward at Iron. There was a bit of blood splattered over the gold of the mask and an iron aroma was hanging around him in a heady cloud.

“Hello.” He licked his lips unconsciously. “Have you been successful?”

“Why don’t you turn on the TV and see for yourself?”

The flat screen which had been dark before flickered to life and –

A grin spread on Loki as he raised his head as he was that it was _not Maw_ who was being shown. It was someone else, a former work colleague of Loki who’d been quite a bit of an ass most days. He told in a sombre voice about the tragic circumstances of Maw’s death; found alone in his bathroom, an unfortunate step on slippery tiles.

“They didn’t mention the roses,” Iron said. “And I made extra sure to leave him one.”

“He gets roses but not I?” Loki countered with hurt mock in his voice. “And that after I saved your butt?”

He felt the tender brush of leather against his nape, hair being flicked away, and he shivered at the contact. Cold metal pressed against his cheek and his pulse started to speed up.

“You deserve something better than just a rose,” the metallic voice whispered. And oh, wasn’t Iron correct? Loki closed his eyes, tuned the speaker out who spoke only in the highest notes about Maw and focused on the burning touch of Iron’s hands, kneading his tense shoulders.

He knew Iron was still dripping with Maw’s blood behind him, he knew he should send him at least to the shower first but as talented fingers pressed against a tight bundle of nerves, Loki let out a pained groan and leant back into the touch.

Iron pressed harder, his fingers a whirlwind of jumping back and forth, finding new spots that screamed, almost begged to be touched and Loki was a soft panting mess.

“Iron-“ Loki’s voice was turning more into a whimper as another know was worked through in slow movements. “ _Please-_ “ He was reaching behind, crossed his hands behind Iron’s neck, arching by doing so and run his fingers through sticky hair.

A sigh escaped Iron and his movements became less, until his hands only rested on Loki’s shoulders, still.

“I don’t regret killing him.”

“I don’t want you to regret it in the first place.” Loki turned his head just a bit, his blood cooling down even when his back still tingled where Iron had touched him and pressed his lips to the cold cheek. “England is only better off without him. Without any of them.”

Iron chuckled quietly. “Whenever I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you come and say something like that.” He drew back and threw the coat over a chair. “I need to go and shower. We can discuss more about the list later?”

“Only the list?” Loki found himself disappointed at that. Okay so, they weren’t a couple or friends with benefits but –

There was _something_ between them and Loki would rather have a hood shoved over his head than to leave this hanging unspoken. He would not let this chance go to waste; he was not in love with Iron but he trusted him and even more so, he had _faith_ in him and his mad ideas. His words of revolution, they were still ringing in Loki’s head and he balled his hands into fists.

“Is there more to discuss?” Iron sounded oddly detached. Faint like a whisper in the dark.

Loki looked up from his lap. “Yes. You are no stupid man, Iron. Don’t start behaving like one now. You know fully well that whatever we are needs to be talked about at some point-“

“-Some point, yes.”

“- and I will not pressure you into talking about it now.” Loki sighed, tasting bitter regret on his tongue. “I only want your word that we _will_ talk about it.”

“Why talk when you simply can enjoy?”

“Normally I would accept that.” Loki tilted his head. “But I’m trapped here for at least a year, and then if the revolution goes wrong, possibly longer. If we both end up in fight and tears, it’ll make it impossible for us to work together. And I don’t-“ he broke off. _I don’t want to lose my faith in you._

“Loki.” Iron’s voice was gentle from where he stood in the doorway to the floor. “We will talk about it. When we know each other better and I’ve showered.” He hesitated. Then, “I promise it.”

vIv

Iron was quiet, almost subdued when he returned. A mug of steaming coffee was sat in front of his nose after Loki had figured out how to make the machine work, and in front of himself, a mug of green tea. The calming aroma was soothing his nerves that for no reason at all, were on fire.

Loki couldn’t say he ever had a “ _what are we,_ ” sort of talk, already knowing from early on that his preferences were considered illegal and distasteful. In school they had told him loving someone from his gender was a crime to the crown and Thanos’ ugly mug had stared down at him with his blending white teeth and rage had started to boil in Loki.

There had been a few girls he went out with, mainly to keep up appearances but the older he became, the easier it was to say he did not have time for a relationship. Work was taking away all his spare time and people nodded, understanding and out of all things, _pity_ in their eyes. For sure they thought he must feel lonely, a poor orphan boy with a tragic backstory; alone since he was running and would continue to be alone even in his grave.

Loki couldn’t have cared less. He liked being alone and enjoying the solitude of his apartment, having no pressure on him to be _perfect_ for someone else. Only sometimes, Loki missed the shared solitude in dark nights, when Maw used to sprout great news about England’s supreme sovereignty and Loki thought about the books behind his second wall; photos of books burning and people cheering to the sound of flames devouring words and freedom. It had been like this before; only to a different extent.

There were no heroes in this story, Loki knew that. Killing people was always bad and something that shouldn’t go by unnoticed but –

“My parents were protesters, back when it just started. My mother believed in freedom and the right to speak one’s mind. My father was an influential politician. Back then people knew his name even outside of London. They didn’t agree with Thanos’ ideas.” Loki lifted his mug to his mouth, took a sip and enjoyed the burn. “They paid for it a few weeks later, just after my brother got ripped apart into thousands of meat pieces when his school got bombed. They shoved bags over their heads and that was the last time I saw them.”

“You poor sod.”

“Thanks.” Loki smiled dryly at Iron. “I dream of a time where I watch TV with superheroes running around and saving the world. Where books were free and accessible to young me and the libraries a place where knowledge was welcomed.”

Iron nodded, the mask glinting in the warm light, a straw was put in the mug so that Iron could drink from it. It made him smile and also wonder what it was Iron was hiding that he didn’t even take off his mask to drink.

“Do you want the old times back?”

“No.” Loki shook his head. “They were rigged, full of failure which allowed them in the first place to turn a democratic state into a totalitarian system. It must not happen again that someone like Thanos and his party, the Black Order, can gain the upper hand again.”

“History repeats itself.”

“A statement which I find absurd and downright depressing,” Loki countered and put the mug down. “If humanity is doomed to repeat the same mistake over and over again, then why are we here? Why did you blow up the building in the first place? If you know that in the end, a few decades, maybe centuries from now on, the same dilemma will be repeated?” He leant forward. “History changes. People try to learn from it, for better or for worse. But we are not caught in a loop of eternal doom.”

Iron didn’t reply but his shoulders slumped, and Loki pictured a smile on his face. A small, gentle thing; maybe pitying Loki for his optimism but – was that really a positive outlook on the world? He wasn’t sure.

“I want to help you, Iron. Not because I am benevolent towards the people who live here or think I’m destined to be an Avenger. But because I want revenge for the family the Black Order took from me and the life I was meant to have but never could own.” He looked down at the table.

“Thank you,” Iron said, his voice surprisingly soft. “And I’m sorry for your family.” He shifted on his seat. “I was unsure why exactly you agreed to help me, Loki. I couldn’t trust you fully but I think, that this – Yeah, I think I understand you.” A chuckle. Rough. Low. He took a sip from the straw, it fit easily inside of the slits in his mask.

“You think you aren’t meant to be an Avenger? I think you are on the best way to become one. We can’t be called both ‘Iron’ but I think ‘The Avengers’ has a nice ring to it.” He held out a hand and Loki shook it, a short firm grip and let go, despite wanting to hold on for longer.

“I’m an American. Just to make that clear.”

“Oh.” Loki wasn’t overly shocked by that revelation. Iron sounded different to him, pronounced his r’s stronger than him; he did have the rhotic accent Thor used to be accused of having. “How did you come to England then?”

“I’m not sure.” Iron looked up to the ceiling. “I used to be a wealthy businessman, grew up in a rich family and all that. When England decided to go rogue, to put it mildly, I was told to take a look at it in the name of my industry because we had a few company buildings on your soil. I was younger than you are now but certainly not naïve anymore either but too trusting with people I thought I could rely on.”

Iron threw the straw out of his mug in a rash motion, borderline violent.

“My godfather trusted me to have this handled and to turn some pretty heads around; and I trusted him to trust me. So, I was here, drank some of your stupid tea and conversed with Thanos and a few others, like Maw. Did you know he used to be of a high military rank back then? He was dishonourably discharged, had it not been for Thanos the guy would’ve ended up as a drunk rat on someone’s door mat.”

A cold feeling was starting to spread in Loki, but he leant forward full of morbid curiosity.

“When we said we’re done, and I think it ended with us saying we’d keep the companies in England, I planned on returning home. Just a simple flight back, standard procedure, you know how it is. But before we even left the ground, the plane was stormed by soldiers. I’m not sure what happened with my pilot, I’ve never heard of him again but I got a bag shoved over my head and taken to a facility, bit outside of London. I think it used to be a building of the Cambridge university, but I can’t say for sure. Didn’t see a lot of it but the people there were all very arrogant and thought they knew better. Very stereotypical of me, I know.”

Iron blew out air.

Loki had to make sure he wasn’t in danger of shoving his mug down the table that was how much he hung to Iron’s not visible lips.

“Thanos’ party planned to develop biological weapons. I thought they wanted my brain, but as I got assured repeatedly while they shoved my head under water, all they wanted was –“ he hesitated. “They got plans from my godfather on how to make people into weapons. As far as I understood it was an exchange, they would keep me here in England and he would never have to bother with me again, and they can do what they want with me and my invention. They did, they really did what they wanted with me.” Iron’s hand rose and touched his chest.

“There’s – we were in our cells alone. Prisoners got exchanged all the time, most died within days because of the infection but some walls had holes in them, small ones and we sent messages back and forth if it was possible. That’s how we knew what was going to expect us when they came to collect us. Most reacted violently, almost _toxic_ to what Maw and the other overseers did to us. I was the only one who survived getting a reactor shoved into my chest, can you believe that?”

“You have-“

Iron held up a hand. “Sh. Story time. Later is our sob time. I’m only going to tell this once, consider it a favour repaid for you telling me your story and me being a bit of a jerk earlier, yes? But yes, I have a reactor in my chest. Not the one from back then, no. It’s a better one, stronger, less prone to failure, the usual shtick when it’s me and improving stuff.”

“All right,” Loki said because what else could he say?

“Long story short. The ones who reacted toxically to the reactor were used as carriers for a new virus which they developed on purpose. I got treated a bit more favourably and saw more of the labs as the others. I _saw_ Maw, I saw the queues they had people in when they let them inside of the building which became nothing more of a slaughterhouse. Do you know how angry I became? And I couldn’t do anything, at first. All I could do was to sit back and let them prod at me, take samples of my blood and –“

He leant forward, the cold metal almost touching Loki’s face. “I told my cell neighbours to listen to what they were saying, when they thought we weren’t paying attention anymore because we were _too broken_. We hatched a plan, pretty explosive one. But we all – or the ones we could reach – were of the opinion it was better to went out in fire and _kaboom_ than to be used forever as lab rats and create viruses that were poisoning the water in the country. And it was better to die quickly and be burned to ashes than to be shoved into mass graves, right?”

“Iron-“

“No. I’m done soon anyway. This might also explain to you _why_ I’m wearing this stupid mask. That has nothing to do with vanity. I made a bomb, Loki. We looked for material that I needed, and I created it, hid it in my toilet when they were about to collect me because nobody fucking bothers to investigate my _shit_. Do you know how that felt, to dig –“ Iron took a deep breath.

“Sorry that wasn’t you. Just, that makes me angry. After all this time. I built the bomb, hid it in the lab and hoped nobody would find it in the next few minutes. I held the pinkie of some man called Yinsen and we were counting down the time together, counting down until death would take us from this place. And then it did go _boom_ , not so pretty as the building did but –“

“It was no less beautiful,” Loki said in a soft voice. He hadn’t noticed he was crying until he felt wetness running on his cheeks.

“I’m not sure how I survived,” Iron continued in a hoarse voice. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I walked out of the building and I’m blaming the reactor, on giving me a big enough jolt to make me alive again but I was standing on fire. Maw looked pretty dead on the ground but apparently the bastard had survived it and I left. Took a bath in the Thames, stole the uniform of some guards that wasn’t entirely destroyed and searched for the abandoned railroad network and made myself a home here.”

Loki nodded slowly.

“I made JARVIS as one of the first things, let him hack the network and connect to the old network and database in America so that he could synchronise with my former JARVIS. It was a bit of a hassle but they managed and the other deleted his coding so that Obadiah couldn’t mess with him any longer. This JARVIS still is JARVIS, just the younger version of him.”

“ _It’s a pleasure to still being able to serve you, Sir_.”

“Oh, I know that buddy.” Iron laughed and a hand rose to his mask. “After we came up with our plan and did most of the work, we started to focus on my scarring. It’s – It’s not pretty, Loki. My right side is mostly healed but reddish, the left side is still in burned chunks.”

“Iron-“

“Don’t tell me it’s pretty when you haven’t even seen it.”

“Then show me.”

“You are an annoying piece of shit, do you know that?” Iron sounded amused. “Good, I’ll show you. But when you faint because the sight is too much for you to bear, then I won’t catch you.”

“Sound fair to me.”

Then, Iron lifted his mask in slow movements. Loki wasn’t sure if it was to give him the chance to break it off or that Iron had the opportunity to gather all his courage.

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. “

“Let me assure you,” Iron said and his voice was velvet on Loki’s nerves, “that ever since I have escaped Cambridge, I haven’t done anything which I didn’t want to do in the first place.”

“That sounds like a good mindset to me.”

Iron lifted his mask, took it off in one movement.

Loki blinked, gave himself time to see _Iron_ without the mask on. He was a handsome man, the hair thick and brown, strands gently hanging in his face like a gentle caress of a lover. Equally brown eyes as the ones from a doe were looking at him curiously, warm spark in the depths of chocolate that threatened to pull Loki in, a curve on lips that promised sins to happen; a scarring stretched from the left eye down to the throat. Red, and it looked harmful as it stretched over half of the face, tight like a knot.

“Why did you only heal the right side first?”

“Because it hurt there the most.” A smile twitched over Iron’s face. “Easy as that. I couldn’t move my right side properly which made everything a bit harder than it had to be but I still got it done in the end.”

“Yes, you did.” Loki reached for Iron’s hands and held them in his, slowly tugging the gloves down. “Can I –“

“Undress me? I don’t remember you being so hesitant about that the first time.”

“Different circumstances,” Loki replied easily, pulling the gloves off and held Iron’s hands _fully_ in his. They were warm, a fine sheet of sweat covering the palms no doubt coming from the heat of the leather. “Are you still treating your left side?”

“I am.”

Loki traced the burned scars carefully, watching out for a signal coming from Iron that he was overstepping his line. But none came forth. Iron’s hand was lax in his hold, tracing a path neither could see with feathery touches and rubbed over the pink skin.

“How did you do it?”

“A cradle.” Iron sounded like he was far away, lost in his own memories. “JARVIS contacted someone who used to work in Cambridge before it became _my Camhell,_ who worked on a cradle. It prints living tissue and is somewhat painfully when you use it longer or on particularly sensitive spots of your body. I-“ Iron bit on his lips. “She gave it to me after she learnt what had become of her university. An apology in the spirits of the building, basically.”

“Don’t people know about Cambridge?”

“No.” Iron flexed his fingers, let them dance on Loki’s palm. “The people who know about it either got killed in the explosion or are so far up Thanos’ ass that they won’t tell a single soul about it. Can you imagine what would happen? If the population learnt what their government did to innocents? Because I promise you, I’ve met a lot of people there who didn’t commit a crime in their eyes or in the ones of the former government. But since it became a crime to be homosexual-“ Iron clicked his tongue. “There you go. Suddenly six percent were criminals despite being good people.”

Iron shot him an unreadable look. “Fingermen are the assholes who get their ass by pretending to obey the law, did you know that?”

“No.”

“If you had, would you have considered becoming one of them?”

Loki shook his head. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up, offended. “Just because they think it’s okay to molest people-“

“-rape.”

“-and to rape them because they’re doing it for ‘the Greater Good’ does that not mean they’re right and it’s no _excuse_ either. I would have never done that. I was lucky to have found a few who were like me and got the tip to try my luck for a short tryst if so desire at the bar I was heading to when you picked me up.” He looked at Iron, feeling tired. “Don’t accuse me of being the sort of monster they are.”

“I had to know, Loki.”

He gave a feeble nod. “Just, don’t do it again.”

“I don’t think I have to.” The same unreadable brown eyes were looking through him in the hopes of an answer, to what Loki didn’t know. “I’m a jerk occasionally. I know that and I can try to be better but –“

“Don’t.” Loki shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Oh, good because I actually like who I am.”

“I hate morning people.”

“Amazing, as do I.”

Loki snorted. “I’ve never been in a relationship that counted,” he admitted and interlaced his fingers with Iron’s. “I’m not sure how to do them either.”

“What a surprise, same as me.” Iron looked at him amusedly. “Always been more of a One-Night stand type.”

“Yeah, I can’t really leave after one night, can I?”

“Nope.” Iron sent him a grin that shoot warmth through Loki. “Good for me. Makes it easier for me to apologise for being a jerk.”

“Ah yes, the only real advantage to this situation.”

“Yes.” Iron squeezed his hand gently. “Do you want to watch a movie? I have a few French ones here that I can translate.”

“ _Bifler_.”

“Maybe another day, pretty boy.”

They watched, ‘ _Le fabuleux destin d’Amélie Poulain’_ together on Iron’s couch, their hands somehow still interlaced but Loki found himself reluctant to let go. He fell asleep to the sound of a piano playing, a tune he never heard before but saw how Thanos could not like it.

It was way too beautiful for his cold regime.

vIv

It was a few days later when they ‘went out’. Perhaps this was their version of a date, Loki thought with a dark sense of humour that played on his lips. The next one on the list was a lady called Proxima Midnight and Iron allowed Loki to come with him. He was, like Iron, dressed in a similar dark garb as Iron. Iron had stolen it from somewhere, a twinkle in his eyes when he came back and pressed it into Loki’s hands.

“So, who was she?”

“One of the doctors at Camhell,” Iron replied as he opened the door. “She was the one leading the experiments. The day the bomb went off, she already had left.”

“Belated repayment,” Loki mumbled in the dark of the house as they entered, closing the door behind them with a soft “ _click_ ”.

“Yes.” Iron walked ahead, his dark coat whirling behind him like a veil and Loki followed behind. They were here to kill Proxima, it was morally wrong, his mother was probably turning around in her body bag but Loki felt like he was doing the right thing here.

Proxima looked old and frail on her bed, the moon casting a silvery light on her and for Loki it felt like the lady had already passed.

Iron kneeled next to her on the bed, pulled out a syringe and gave her a jab.

“Done.”

“Already?” Loki asked quietly, not believing it.

“No. It will be a few more minutes until the effect sets in and then it’s over.” He tilted his head and Loki stepped forward, so that their arms were brushing. “She looks peaceful, doesn’t she?”

“She does.”

“Wait for me outside?” Iron asked him quietly as Proxima showed signs of waking up.

Loki gave a nod, brushed his hand against Iron’s then left. It seemed as if Iron had still a confession to make or to hear, and for his sake, Loki hoped it was the right kind that would help him to sleep at night.

They left a few minutes later, just when Rogers and Barton were about to crash the building, shouting Proxima’s name frantically.

And Iron and Loki ran over the roofs, just this time, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Square: **I1 - Criminals (AU)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Square: **N3 - Free Square**

Everything was _ready,_ Loki realised as the fourth of July neared in big steps. He let the dagger in his hand dance to the other while he waited for a minute to pass. Iron was already out, seeing Rogers and Barton, to let them know the truth and then – 

They’d go and see _T_ _he Other._

Loki felt vomit in his mouth, put there by the fear he felt for Iron. He knew their plan depended on The Other eating Iron’s words up and oh, he had a great way with words, that he did. Loki barely needed to help him to find the good ones, letting himself be seduced into Iron’s bed with ease as they developed a friendship next to the growing lust Loki felt for the rebel. 

He’d been reluctant, realising as time went on and they plotted to kill the rest of the Black Order, that Iron was his the only thing that remained for him; because he could never contact Fandral during his year in exile and his family, his job, his reputation, it all was lost and gone for him. If he and Iron chose wrong _once_ , maybe Iron would survive it. Loki wouldn’t survive it. 

There was a dependency on Iron’s goodwill he hadn’t counted on before and as months went by, he fostered their friendship first even when he pressed kisses to a scarred cheek and threaded his fingers through soft hair, to it all there was … a distance.

And Iron looked at him under his long lashes, smiled at him as he run his fingers over Loki’s arm and let him do as he wished; only his tongue he did not keep in check, flirted with Loki when he didn’t make jokes and did his best at making him blush like a young teenager. 

It worked and as Iron brought him one day his own mask, similar in design to Iron’s, only his eyes glowed green, Loki pulled the other into a kiss; at loss for words. Yet where he’d experienced their loss, Iron found them, sweet as honey and a dark promise to trust him with his heart. And Loki’s started to beat thunderously, excited at the newfound possibility and gave it away, traded it carefully in for tender touches on his body, experiencing a rush of hormones and desire like seldom before. 

Iron was sure of what he was doing, seemed to know where Loki wanted to feel his hands the most and found spots Loki hadn’t considered before, drew moans from his lips with an ease that made him wonder and want to know _more_. 

He went to the door, the mask pulled down. 

“ _Mr Loki-“_

“I do have to go after him, JARVIS,” Loki said quietly.

“ _He asked you explicitly_ not _to go after him._ ” The AI’s voice was stern, unrelenting.

“And I never agreed to follow his wishes.” Loki’s hand was on the door handle. “You can’t stop me, JARVIS.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, “ _It is a test.”_

“A test?” Loki tilted his head to the side.

“ _To see if you’d do as he asked you so he knows if he can trust you in the end or not.”_

“He doesn’t trust me?” Loki asked into the fragile peace the AI and he had at the moment. “ _Still_?”

“ _He wants to.”_

“He knew I wanted to follow him,” Loki summaries and his gut coiled in fear, shame, _betrayal_.

“ _We are so close to the end, Mr Loki. We cannot risk a loose cannon now anymore.”_

“I understand.” Loki closed his eyes, his hand slipping from the handle. “I understand,” he repeated.

vIv

It hurt that Iron would _still_ test him, that even after everything they’d done together, he was still _on probation._ JARVIS had agreed not to say anything because he liked _Loki_ for some reason he couldn’t understand. It might have been all the chess and French lessons they had together. Maybe it was because he took care of Iron where JARVIS simply couldn’t –

Ensured he was taking his medicine again to reduce the scarring and the pain coming from that.

But Loki sat on the couch, _Pacific Rim_ playing on the TV and he wondered about fantasy and if he hadn’t crossed the boundary to it. They never said they were _in love_ or anything, simply exchanged kisses, made the other orgasm and –

There had been lots of talking. Iron had told him of his past but, did that really matter to him? Did that _mean_ anything to Iron, after all, he was out right now and telling Rogers _exactly that_ , to charm him on their side? Whereas Loki barely had told anybody of what happened to him, revealing his past to Iron like he was his psychologist, his _Freud_ and Iron listened; an open and friendly ear to Loki’s woes, only to assess if he could trust him in the first place.

They stayed together here because there was nowhere else to go, they killed Obsidian together where Loki pretended to be a young boy, make-up on his cheeks and a sultry look in his eyes. He’d felt nothing but disgust towards the man, repelled by his sexual fantasies but he promised Iron to buy him enough time.

He’d pictured the broad frame of his rebel, the slight sway in his hips as he walked up to Obsidian, the teasing note in his voice and the rough moans he’d managed to pull from Iron’s lips.

 _Iron_. The name tasted of blood in his mouth, warm and fresh. Somehow Loki found himself to be upset at Iron’s test, a stubborn unwillingness to accept and move on from it; the sting of betrayal cutting deep into his bones. This was a new feeling he had when thinking about Iron.

Loki knew the rebel wasn’t perfect in any way, that he had been forged in fire and flames to seek revenge for his life that had been taking from him; exchanged for money and his blood and –

Was it a wonder he couldn’t trust Loki fully when his own _godfather_ had betrayed him?

A small, feeble part in him screamed _yes_ but Loki knew it wasn’t that easy. Once betrayed that deeply it was difficult to trust like this again. He simply had to take a deep and closer look at himself, his own view towards strangers, towards the _government_. He sat in the underground London’s, lived together with a man he barely knew only ached to be in his presence and was trying to topple the people who held power in their hands.

Rationally, Loki wasn’t hurt, it was done from Iron’s view with the best intentions and he was forgiven him already.

But his insides felt like thousands of shards, shattered memories of joyful laughter, fluid movements as Iron crossed blades with him, a smile on his face and sweat running down his body. The intoxicating feeling as Iron pressed him to the wall, his hands running over Loki’s body, rutting against him as they panted for breath.

Had it all meant _nothing_ to Iron?

Loki felt alone in his gloomy hour of misery, plagued by worry for his _lover_ as he put it and feeling the coldness rummaging inside of him; his breath slow, almost unnaturally so and tears were running down his face, swimming in his hands and he felt light, too light.

There was no reprieve for him; there were still tears ready to fall at the slightest feeling of a new shove at him as he heard the door opening and falling shut a few seconds later.

He was still sitting on the couch, barely had moved a finger as Iron strolled in, the mask gliding through his fingers with ease.

Loki stared at the muddied shoes, his hair falling in front of his face. He idly wondered if he shouldn’t cut it at some point, having let it grow so long that it was falling easily on his shoulders now. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

“Loki?”

“Iron.” His voice sounded strange, a brittle thing and he cleared his throat, tried to make his vocal cords work again.

“You know.”

He looked up, seeing only in passing the flickering shadow of regret on Iron’s face.

“I’m not stupid,” Loki said, feeling extremely so. “It’s _forgiven.”_

“Is it.” Iron stepped closer, his leather-clad hands lifted his chin, _tenderly_.

Loki swallowed, bile clawing its way up inside of him and his eyes felt full, a dull pressure against his eyeball. He barely felt anything, his hair tickled in his nape and Iron looked at him with dark, forlorn eyes.

“I needed to make sure I can trust you.”

“I know.” Loki sighed, a hand running up Iron’s arm, resting on the dark collar around his throat and played with it. It felt warm against him, sooth and smooth, bending to his will, in a way. He felt like he was doing the same for Iron, saw the dark glint of sorrow in deep pits he knew could glow under the right circumstances and missed the simple times when his face was nothing but a blue glow, glinting to the fire and sound of the dawn to a new age.

“Will you trust me,” he asked and rested his forehead against Iron’s. “One day?”

“I’ll do my best.”

For now, Loki thought and pulled Iron into a kiss to hide the upwelling sorrow in his eyes, that was enough.

vIv

”We still have to get Thanos into our hands,” Loki said as July Fourth drew closer.

“That’s easy.” Iron tilted his head upward, his fingers running over the book in his hands.

“Is it?” Loki leant looked down to Iron, his head resting on his lap as they were reading. It was about 2am but neither felt particularly tired, excitement and nervousness keeping them awake.

“The Other is a greedy bastard,” Iron muttered and put his book aside. It landed on the floor with a quiet _thud_ and Loki’s heart hurt at the sound. “He wants to lead the Black Order and Thanos has grown _old_. I –“ Something like shame crawled over his face.

“You have already contacted him.”

“Yes. Oops?”

Loki shook his head, a light smile on his lips that spoke volumes of the treachery he felt inside of him.

“Hey, hey.” Iron sat up, his scarred hands on Loki’s face, warm and _tender_. “I wanted to tell you after I came back from talking to Rogers, I – well, I had a bit different stuff on my mind, Lokes. This hasn’t got anything to do with me not trusting you, this –“

“It’s okay,” Loki interrupted Iron’s rambling. He closed his eyes and leant into the warm touch. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Iron’s voice was a gentle whisper, soothing the open wounds in Loki and strewed salt into it at the same time. “When it’s over, I will _prove to you_ that I trust you, Loki.”

“And until then?”

“I can only try. Let’s watch the country burn together.” His thumbs stroked over Loki’s cheek and lips pressed against his eyelids, one after the other. He sighed, his shoulders slumped and he leant forward, trusting Iron to catch him in his fall.

Because falling was what Loki did. He was tumbling towards the ground, accompanied by his heart screams and aching wounds, and Iron stood above him, pity, and something tender in his eyes, held out a hand that could save Loki. But he was falling, and there was no end, not yet and time was ticking in quick movements.

“I told The Other that I have a proposition for him and he should meet me tomorrow. We’re leaving at seven, after dinner and I want you to watch my back, Loki. Can you-“

He nodded. It was a small movement, barely detectable but he nodded nonetheless. He could watch Iron’s back, he’d watch his heart the man was almost sure he didn’t even have any longer and would take care of it. While Iron would be talking to The Other, Loki would ensure both of their survival.

There wasn’t much they said afterwards, only a sweet kiss that tasted of desperation, and Loki’s unwillingness to let go of Iron. He held him close, refused to get up when a sense of tiredness overcame them. They curled together on the couch, long limbs pressed to short ones and Loki buried his nose into soft brown hair that still smelled of the cold air outside.

London would not stay cold any longer, soon it would be engulfed in flames and fire and Loki could not wait.

His heart was beating steadily and Iron was snoring softly, trusting Loki to have his back already.

vIv

“How many of those crates do you _have_?” Loki asked in wonder, as they put them all into a truck.

“Enough to give every Londoner a fitting outfit.” Iron shot him a wink. “Can you drive the truck to the nearest post office? They’ll know what to do from there on.”

“They won’t rat me out?”

“Coulson is a friend,” Iron said and took Loki’s hands. “He knows of my cause for two years now and has agreed to deliver the _post_ when the time was right.”

“You have friends you didn’t tell me about?” Loki teased Iron gently, as his heart started to beat faster. Iron pressed the key into his hand.

“Coulson is the friend of a friend.” Iron’s eyes were dancing in the sunlight wickedly, a cruel twist on his lips and Loki pressed his lips to them, tasted the alluring scent of blood and revenge. It felt divine and Iron opened his mouth easily, let Loki take what he wanted and offered it to him eagerly.

“I want to hear _everything_ ,” Loki hissed when they drew back, cheeks flushed and the need for oxygen coursing through his lung. It felt like they were too _small_ , not enough air in them and Iron’s lips were a trembling sight of desire and hesitancy, and Loki snorted softly into the wind. “Your story, Iron. Completely.”

“You will hear it. After tomorrow has ended.”

Loki nodded, pressed a last kiss to Iron’s lips and then sat inside of the truck.

On the drive, he remembered the early visit they’d paid to The Other. The dust collecting in the old house where the cleaning staff had no interest to _clean_ because their employer was a small, ugly man who deserved kicks to his groin so that no children ever could be conceived. His voice was a masterpiece of grovelling threats, a crime to any ear except maybe Thanos’ and Loki had played _music_ , loud, so no one could hear Iron and The Other talk.

Not even him.

He wore a red shit under his hat, a safety vest threw above it and _nobody_ , really nobody paid any mind to him as he drove the truck to the nearest post office.

A man stepped outside, sunglasses on and wore a fine suit.

“Iron post?” he asked, sounding almost bored.

“Iron post.” Loki agreed.

“Amazing.” Coulson nodded and held out a phone to him. “If you enter the code here, the other deliveries will be sent out, they have been stored away for almost a year now.”

Loki blinked. The man smiled at him. “Don’t take it personally. Plans had been in motion before you entered the stage, my friend. We’re all just doing what we can to make sure the government will get a heavy shot of iron. He specifically asked for the last truck to remain so you can meet me.”

“He wanted me to meet you?”

“He did.” Coulson patted his shoulder. “If you’re still hanging around after tomorrow, I’m sure we’ll see each other more. Iron might be needed in other countries.”

“And I think Iron wants a break.”

“Maybe.” The man’s smile was enigmatic. “There’s a bike on the backside of the shop for you. Safe ride.”

 _Right_. Loki had almost forgotten he couldn’t _walk_ the way back.

The only problem was he’d never driven a bike before.

vIv

Iron was _peaceful_ , almost deadly so when Loki returned and quiet as he went over the plan for tomorrow again. He was _distanced_ but here with Loki and his fingers dancing over Loki’s face in reverent touches, drawing symbols and whispered gentle, sweet words into Loki’s ear when they were done and thought of getting a rest.

Loki had his eyes closed, heard the sound of rain outside and Iron’s hands were kneading his back and worked out knots and tension, which made him groan with ease.

Was this the act of a bad conscience or was it something else?

Loki couldn’t find it in himself to search for an answer as he laid there lax and pliant, teeth nibbling on his shoulders and marked him with bites and bruises. Iron was still quieter as usual but the same could be said for Loki. Words, words had the power to destroy them, and recently what had come from both of their mouths had hurt and cut deeply –

Tomorrow everything would crumble and fall apart and maybe, so would they. Loki could go _maybe_ and live another life again, forget about the man who held his heart in his burned hands and turned his head so that he could give Loki a gentle kiss. He thought about if there were words and meanings hidden in it that Loki could not decipher yet and Iron could not say out loud, a soft moan escaped him and got swallowed by Iron’s greediness and he bucked up into the hand on his ass.

He got a squeeze as a reward, warm and so that Loki _felt it,_ realised he was not alone and Iron not a phantom of his imagination; that everything had happened and they were here. Bathing in a needy show of want and crave, a low simmer of lust that steadily grew.

Almost a year ago he’d seen Iron first, a demon at night with glinting knives and saved him from the inevitable doom of extinction Loki had been set out on. The Black Order had killed him on the inside, had ruined his life and Iron had seen him, saved him from the pit hole of hell and showed him the upside of _everything_ , with a boom and bang, brought light back into his life.

He barely felt Iron’s fingers teasing him open, lost in the memory of the night, fuelled by the desire for revenge that came up again. And Iron gave him more, let him feel his warmth and there was a new tenderness in his movements as he thrust into Loki.

Mayhap they would die tomorrow, the revolution fail and nothing would change even though everything _was changed_ ; a small force which nobody had seen coming throwing everything off balance and Loki sighed Iron’s name, content to stay in the moment and not to worry about the future and the demise it would bring. He would worry later about whose demise it was going to be.

Iron made him feel warm, breathing loud against his ear and pulled out, just to turn him on his back and thrust back.

There was something _open_ about this position, they couldn’t hide from another here, saw exactly what the other thought and _felt_. The shivers running down their bodies and he pulled Iron down to him, gasped at his lips as he just wanted to say something. But nothing was working anymore, his brain exploding in colours he could not name, Iron sucking at his throat and thrusting into him; everything started to feel like it was _too much_ and Loki felt the fingers inside him, open up and all tension built up was getting loose –

There was a moment he thought he gasped Iron’s name but everything was tingling and he couldn’t _focus_ , couldn’t –

And Iron moaned his name and it sounded like it was a desperately needed absolution from his lips, Loki heard it as he was slowly coming down again.

“Don’t think there’s anything that can go wrong tomorrow,” Iron croaked and looked up at him. “Not after good sex, the universe doesn’t allow that.”

“That’s all we want.” Loki yawned and rubbed himself off with the sheet before he closed his eyes. “You go and get a new blanket.”

“Why me?”

“Because I am asleep.” He winked at Iron, feeling ease between them like it hadn’t been there for a while now.

“Only for you,” Iron grumbled but left, returned a few minutes later with a new blanket and cuddled up on Loki’s side.

They fell asleep a few minutes later, minds blissfully empty and peaceful.

vIv

It was July the third, and Loki stood in the underground, far away from the place he’d come to call _home_ for about a year now.

“We’ll meet in front of the Big Ben again,” Iron said in a hurried whisper, his eyes on Loki. “I’ll go and do my part, and you _this_.”

“What is this?”

Iron chuckled at that, pressed the remote into Loki’s hand. “If you press the button, the train will be set into motion and explode about ten minutes later, and with it, the Big Ben and the Parliament of Westminster.”

“Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes.” Iron cocked his head to the side, a silent plea in his eyes that stole Loki’s breath. “If you want to see me again after this, I’ll wait atop a roof for you and we can talk.”

Loki closed his eyes, bitterness, and a wave of regret surging through him.

“And if I won’t appear?”

Iron’s smile was sad, barely managed to lift the corners of his mouth but his hands were still warm on Loki’s nape, his thumb stroking over his rapidly beating pulse.

“Then I’ll wait for the next seven nights for you there if you change your mind. After that I’ll go with Coulson back to America and start a new life there, hoping that you have a great life and can live it as you please.”

There had been a kiss, the remote in Loki’s hands so cold and he felt the small tremors of it and Iron disappeared quietly into the shadows.

 _Half an hour until I have to press the button. Then it is midnight and July the fourth_.

He was aware of the choice Iron had given him, the endless possibilities of what he could do now. He could also choose _not_ to press the button and leave it all as it is. Nobody would be angry at him – a lie – but it had been his choice.

He thought of all the parcels sent out today, people who were by now probably dressing in a black outfit and wearing a duplicate of Iron’s mask, ready to march to the Big Ben and see the regime fall.

He’d started this in a thirst for revenge and oh, he still wanted it, wanted to see it all crush and burn to the ground and be atop of the game, but he –

He wanted Iron with him, more than anything else.

How was it possible to fall in love with someone he didn’t know the name of, only the false identity? But did he _need_ a name? Iron came from his lips easily enough and what was a name if he could trust the rebel, when he knew how he wanted his coffee and confide in him with his deepest fears and his past.

Knowing his sexual preference was accepted by Iron and not only that, even reciprocated and loved him _quietly_ in return; yesterday had spoken volumes in their bed, the gentleness of the act and Loki felt a smile on his face. He looked down at the remote in his hand and realised the importance of it. Not that he’d needed it before but now it hit him what it _meant exactly_.

Iron’s plans of _years_ were in his hand, trusting him to do as he wanted and not to _fuck it up_ , to put it blandly and stay at his side. He could still leave later. He didn’t have to go and see Iron.

Loki was free to do as he wished.

And somehow, despite living with Iron and running over rooftops with him, this moment here, it made him feel more alive than before. There were no obligations, only a wish to make the right call for everybody.

He was free.

And time was ticking.

At ten before midnight, Loki hit the blue button and the train set into motion, rushing towards the end of the story.

He pulled on his own mask and walked through the tunnel, turned right and climbed up a ladder, walked through the abandoned streets only hearing people walking further away and climbed up the fire escape ladder to a house.

The wind was blowing up here and for a moment, Loki looked at the _yet_ peaceful London and said goodbye to it already.

Then he ran over the roofs, towards where the Big Ben stood and pointed into the dark sky, his dark cape whirling behind him and it felt as if it helped him to gain speed.

Iron was waiting for him from a roof directly across the Parliament, and when he saw Loki, he smiled broadly.

“You came,” he whispered.

“Of course,” Loki replied and his hands found Iron’s. They turned towards the Big Ben, a minute before midnight.

“This concert,” Iron said and their arms were pressed together as they heard the Big Ben bell a last time. “Is for the people from the people.”

Tchaikovsky was starting to play from everywhere, a forceful reminder of what happened a year ago and now –

Everything was warm inside of Loki as he saw fire running on the sides of the building, rapidly and it was _warm, so warm_ and there were goosebumps on his arms and he turned to Iron.

“It is beautiful.” It was nothing more than a whisper as he turned to Iron. It was _done,_ and there was a firework going on. There was no sound of guns going off, not like Loki had expected it and warmth hit him in the side from the explosion and Iron looked like he was part of the _fire_ ; excitement painted his face and Loki thought he was beautiful.

“ _You_ are beautiful,” Iron countered easily and magicked a blush onto Loki’s face. “Did I ever tell you that?” 

“You might.” 

And everything was so peaceful as the fireworks continued, the Big Ben crumbling apart as did the government. There was a trace of blood on Iron’s face, dripping down his eyebrow and his left face half. Everything was as it was supposed to be and he licked his lips as Iron turned to him fully, not paying attention anymore to the firework next to them. 

“My name,” Iron said and he run his fingers through Loki’s hair, took the mask off of him, “was Tony Stark.” 

“Was?” Loki looked at him gently, his heart racing and flying to the moon, and a grin was on his face. “Just Tony?” 

“No.” Iron shook his head. “My full name is Anthony Edward Stark.” 

“You aren’t Tony anymore,” Loki realised, “you became Iron because he died here, didn’t he?” 

“Tony died.” Iron nodded and he pulled Loki closer. “But Iron isn’t needed anymore either from now on.”

“How about I call you _Anthony_?” Loki asked tenderly. 

“Anthony.” Iron repeated the name slowly, tested it out. 

“Anthony,” Loki said and wrapped his arms around Anthony, feeling complete. “I would love to go to America with you.” 

And that was the last thing he said, as he bent his head down and kissed Anthony, chasing away tenderly all the iron traces of his deed tonight. It was time to start free of guilt, revenge, and blood. 

Loki couldn’t wait for it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it 🙌 I enjoyed it, hope you did as well and for those who celebrate it: Happy (belated) Hanukkah, Merry Christmas 🙌💕


End file.
